Forever
by MessiahsInPurgatory
Summary: Over the course of forever, many things can happen. Things happen and people change, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse. But in the end, sometimes we find ourselves right back where we started. Historical France/fem!England.


Prologue Thingy

20 BC

Life had been unpredictable for Gaul, as well as unsettling at times, but it was getting better.

Well, in all honesty, the world around her could be going to hell and she wouldn't notice, still maintaining the belief that her own life was improving. What exactly was the cause of this delusion? The answer was not a what, but a who. A little who, to be specific, whom was fast asleep on his straw bed, curled up as though still in Gaul's womb, thumb set resolutely in his mouth, the setting sun highlighting his soft features with an almost angelic light. Watching her son lose himself in his dreams, she smiled and absent-mindedly and gently brushed a wave of hair from the toddler's forehead.

The entire situation was entirely ironic. After all, the boy's very existence ought to have Gaul in a terrified panic rather than bring her joy, especially given who the boy's father was.

Gaul's smile slipped from her face as she thought of Rome. She would always hold resentment towards him for how he conquered and controlled her and so many others. The man's priority was power, not caring how he obtained or kept it. But all the same, he was charming and smooth, and she adored him. She chuckled a bit, sparing a moment to think of how Celt would react to her relationship with Rome and how they had come to produce a child. He would be furious, no doubt. And disappointed.

She couldn't care less.

Sighing, Gaul ran her hand through her own hair, a faint wave of sadness washing over her. This boy had been born to replace either his mother or his father.

And it most certainly would not be Rome. How could it be? He was far too powerful. It seemed as though an empire such as himself would never collapse, never fail.

So. There it was. Gaul was raising her son for her own slaughter, as it were. But she was alright with that. So long as her son was safe and well, nothing else mattered. Not her, not Rome. All that mattered was the fate of her son.

Francis. That would be his name. That was a name that implied strength, courage, resoluteness, and a sense of justice. Everything that he would grow up to be.

50 AD

Life had been nothing but turmoil for Britannia. And through her own idiocy, weakness, and desperation, it was slowly but surely growing more and more complicated. Just as surely as the child living inside of her grew more and moved closer to birth with each passing day. The child which was not Celt's, but another man's.

She huffed and placed a hand on her slightly swollen stomach, then felt a twinge of pity for her unborn child. There would be nobody to truly love the child after Britannia was gone.

Yes, Britannia was very much aware that her days were numbered. And it was all that Roman bastard's fault. Once her other children had been born, she knew she wouldn't have long, but when Rome had taken over her but left Alba and Cymru, she realized she no longer personified the land of "Britannia" any more. She only remained because, for now, the people across her island clung to their shared culture. But the more Rome's influence separated her from them, as well as Celt and their other little boy, Éire, the less purpose Britannia had. Especially with this new child on the way, to personify what land remained…

Britannia shut her eyes, pushing away the high-noon sun. Celt would keep the child safe enough after she was gone, there was no doubt about that, even though he wasn't the father. And there would be no point in trying to pass off the child as his. It had been far too long since the two of them had been together…the way they were once…the way they should still be.

She hadn't meant to be disloyal. She truly had been holding on to the hope that she and Celt could save their dying love and that they could be proper parents for their children. They had been a peaceful, loving family once. Britannia and Celt had raised their children with the tender compassion they had shown one another.

Her heart ached from missing her family; the oldest, Alba, with his brashness, mischievous Éire, and clever little Cymru. And Celt, lively and passionate and _her's._

But then the Roman Empire happened. Then came Celt's obsession with the mainland and keeping his traditions safe. Then came the numerous journeys to Gaul and Germania to check on his tribes. Then came the talk of how Gaul herself was succumbing to Roman influence. She knew that Celt and Gaul were simply close, but it was still upsetting that he turned a blind-eye to the troubles of his own partner.

So when Germania had arrived in her lands, she couldn't help it. He had been caring, supportive, and so unconcerned with what was happening between Rome and Gaul.

She wouldn't tell him. Let the rest of the world the world think that this child was hers and Celt's. Let this child and their brothers be raised together. The way it ought to be.

And most importantly, let this child not become like the nation at the heart of all the problems of the world. Let this child be nothing like Rome, controlling so much of the world and playing a role in all affairs under the sun. The power wasn't worth the price of so much resentment.

330 AD

Celt's heart was pounding furiously, his palms sweaty, yet his face grim and determined. Despite how badly he wanted to respect his lover's wishes, now that she was gone, he couldn't. He simply couldn't. The girl wasn't his daughter. He had raised her with Britannia as though she was, but the pain of living with proof-in-the-flesh that Britannia had been with another man was simply too much.

And, with the woman he loved gone forever, merely looking at the young girl who resembled her mother so much was unbearable. Now, Celt certainly didn't blame little Albion for Britannia's death. He had known he would lose her sooner than expected with the births of Alba and Cymru, and especially the arrival of Rome. Which was why he had tried to distance himself; to try to numb the pain when it finally happened. But all it had done was worsen the blow with regret and guilt.

So now he had to find someone who _would_ care for Albion. And even though he was not her father, she was still his family. And even though there was only one woman who would watch over the girl, words could not describe the aggravation he felt about placing Albion in the vicinity of Roman spawn.

Celt was taking the girl across the water to Gaul. She would stay there until every last remnant of Rome was gone. Until her people gained some sense of self and order.

He felt awful doing this to Albion, knowing she would never willingly leave her brothers. That was why he had sent the boys out on their own to camp (Alba was just old enough to keep them out of trouble). That was why Celt had waited for her to fall asleep before scooping her up and carrying her to the boat that would take them to Gaul. It was late, and the stars illuminated his path. Yet at the same time, they seemed to be judging him, condemning him as he placed Britannia's only daughter in the household of another.

Cringing, Celt felt Albion snuggle against his neck in her sleep. Christ, because he wasn't guilty enough about this as he already was, right? She then began to stir from her dreams, pulling away from his shoulder and blinking groggily.

"Papa…? Where are we going?"

Celt's throat tightened. "On a journey," he said stiffly. "To a far-away land. Go back to sleep, cailín."

But eyes wide and now fully awake, Albion looked at him with wonder. "Are we going to where Mama is?" she asked hopefully, a note of excitement creeping into her voice.

"Aon," Celt replied, snapping a bit, the word coming out harsher than he intended. "Aon," he repeated, this time more gently, holding the toddler close to him. "We're going to visit an old friend of mine."

* * *

**Language Stuffs**- Alba, Cymru, and Albion were the names used to refer to Scotland, Wales, and England respectively in like…the years after the fall of Rome and the dawn of the Dark Ages…and maybe into Medieval Times?

Éire-Ireland, cailín-girl, aon-no. These are Irish translations. It should be Gaelic (which is the Irish equivalent of "Ye Olde English" and Elizabethan English, but me no find translator ;A; )

**History Stuffs**- Rome conquered Gaul in 44 BC.

Britannia came under Roman rule between 14 and 98 CE which means around the birth of Christ which means AD. While the Romans hadn't controlled present-day Wales or Scotland, just England, both the island as a whole and Roman territory were referred to as Britannia.

Present-day Ireland was untouched by the Romans.

Celtic tribes existed all throughout Germania and Gaul.

Gaul isn't in as much immediate danger as Britannia was because the area that was called "Gaul" encompassed what was France as well as a good chunk of the early Holy Roman Empire

**Hey, I'm back! Reviews please?**


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